


Gonna Have Myself a Real Good Time

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 16:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5934340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven gets Clarke a stripper for her birthday, using Clarke's library crush as a guide to what she's into. She does a really shockingly good job picking the right guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gonna Have Myself a Real Good Time

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on some tumblr prompts this weekend, so I might be posting a bunch. We'll see how it works out!

"Please tell me you didn't actually--" Clarke starts, with some horror.

"Why wouldn't I?" Raven asks. "He just texted, he's on his way."

"I don't want a stripper!" Clarke says. "I'm only, like, twenty-five percent into guys to begin with, so--"

"Yeah, but you have gone on, at length, about that guy who works at the library, so I know exactly what kind of guys you're into right now." She counts off on her fingers. "Curly back hair, glasses, big arms, smirk, strong opinions about higher education."

"How did you find a stripper like that?" Harper asks, sounding curious.

"Is there like a stripper catalogue?" Wells adds. "With personality descriptions? Like those playmate ones?"

"I want a stripper catalogue," says Monty, somewhat wistful. "It sounds fun."

"None of you are helping," Clarke grumbles. "But, yeah, I didn't think you had a lot of input on your strippers. Don't you just kind of call and someone shows up and starts getting naked?"

"Okay, clearly I am the only one here who has ever ordered a stripper," Raven says.

"Probably true," says Clarke. "Seriously, strippers are creepy, right? Like--I know guys are broadly less objectified than women in our society, but we're still paying people to take their clothes off for our amusement. That seems gross."

"I promise he is a free-range, organic, USDA-certified, fair-trade stripper. And I said I wanted someone with dark hair who started out nerdy and got ripped when he took his clothes off, Superman style." Clarke still must look unconvinced, because Raven sighs. "He's a friend of a friend, okay? I told my friend Miller that it was my best friend's twenty-first and I wanted to do something special, and he said his friend is a stripper. I told him what you're into, and he said this guy was perfect."

"Wait, your friend Miller knows strippers?" Monty asks, perking up. "Does he--"

"No, I asked," says Raven. "They're not coworkers. Sorry, Monty. You're gonna have to get him naked some other way."

"I'll figure it out eventually. When's the stripper coming? I feel like Clarke needs to be drunker, or she'll just start ranting about how we're exploiting him."

"Which we are--" Clarke starts, and Raven, Wells, and Monroe all shove drinks at her.

"Half an hour," says Raven. "Let's do this."

Of course, everyone else still drinks more than Clarke, because that's just how they are, so when someone rings the doorbell, she's the one who gets it. Or maybe she's supposed to get it? Maybe that's how strippers work. The person who's getting stripped at opens the door so they can start the stripping. Or something.

Her first thought on opening the door is that Raven really did well with the stripper catalogue, because the guy outside looks _exactly_ like her crush from the library. Same tousled black hair, same tan, freckled skin. Different glasses, larger and clunkier, but same nose, same scar above his lip--

"Oh," Clarke says, barely a breath.

"Hi, I'm looking for--" He must recognize her all at once too, because his voice goes from smarmy charm to confusion. "Clarke Griffin?"

"Hi," she says.

They've never exchanged names or anything; they've only actually talked a handful of times. He works at the library, but not at the desk, so she usually sees him shelving books with his headphones in, and she likes watching him. Subtly. But sometimes he'll also do his own work during his off hours, and that's when she started actually being _attracted_ to him, when she saw him surrounded by books, totally engrossed, and it was just--cute. She likes people who are interested in academics, who are passionate, and the way he was pouring over an old history book upgraded the tug of interest in her stomach from simple admiration to affection. 

They've shared tables a few times, when it's busy, chatted a little, and it's been fun, but they don't know each other at all.

"I heard it's your birthday?" he says, and she's pretty sure it was supposed to be another smooth line, but he still sounds totally flustered.

"Yeah. Twenty one."

"Happy birthday."

"Thanks." She looks him over, trying to be subtle, but she's a little drunk and curious. She usually sees him dressed casually, t-shirts and jeans, but he's definitely got--well, not to be a jerk, but he looks like a stripper who's dressed up in nerd clothes he's planning to rip off. The white button-down and slacks are nice, but have that kind of cheap look, and his tie is obviously clip-on.

Not that she's judging. He looks hot. She just likes the natural look better on him.

"So, this is awkward," she says, cheerful.

He laughs. "Yeah, uh--you're Raven's friend?"

"She's in here somewhere, yeah. You know Raven?"

"Just by reputation from Miller." He rubs the back of his neck. "I should give her a refund, I guess."

"Why?"

He wets his lips. "Uh, did you still want me to--"

She considers. "You know what, you should come in and have a drink." He raises his eyebrows, making her flush. "God, did that sound like a weird pickup line? You're here, you might as well hang out, right? I didn't really want a stripper, but--you're cool, and Raven can afford it, so--you want to?"

There's a pause long enough Clarke thinks he's going to say no, but then he breaks out in a grin. "Do you even know my name?"

"Nope. Do you have a special stripper name you go by? Do I have to call you that while you're on the clock?"

"You can just call me Bellamy." He pauses. "That's not a stripper name. It's my real name."

"And I'm Clarke. Come on, everyone's probably too drunk to remember you were supposed to strip."

It's not actually true, but Clarke glares pointedly at them, gives him a drink, and introduces him as Bellamy from the library, and her friends are, for once, cool.

Probably because Bellamy is smiling at her, and they recognize she'd rather flirt than watch him get naked. Or, ideally, flirt and _then_ watch him get naked.

"So, you're a librarian/stripper?" she asks, once they're settled in with beer. Monty and Wells got Monty's Wii U set up and everyone else is playing games; she's not sure if it's deliberate privacy or coincidental, but either way, it's awesome.

"And grad student," he says.

"That works less well with the sexy librarian cliche, though."

He laughs, soft, and Clarke is kind of transfixed. He's very, very pretty.

"I'm not a real librarian either. I just work in a library."

"Shh, don't ruin it."

"So, _nerdy guys who are secretly hot_ is actually your type? That wasn't just your friend going for a stripper cliche?"

"It's not really a secret," she says, and glares at her beer, like it's the beer's fault. It's not. She should not have asked him in. But he was at her door and planning to strip for her, and she couldn't just _send him away_. Not when they could be talking.

"Even better," he says. "What about you?"

She thinks it over for a minute, but finally decides, "I consider myself not-secretly hot."

He laughs again. "Yeah, obviously, but I meant what do you do? You're twenty-one, so, undergrad? Junior? What are you studying?"

"Art history."

"Cool. I'm in, uh, regular history."

"Also cool." She takes a drink of her beer, scrambling a little. She knows how to talk to people. Even attractive people. With nice arms. But instead of coming up with any small talk, she says, "Are those stripper glasses?"

He chokes on his beer. "What?"

"They're just--not your regular ones."

She's worried it might be creepy, but he breaks out with a grin. "Oh, yeah. No, I actually wear contacts and fake glasses for work. Well, when people are looking for, uh--" He gestures to his body. "This. The Clark Kent."

"Fake glasses?"

"I can't see without them, so, yeah. But taking them off is part of the act, so--"

"You take them off?"

"I shouldn't?"

"No, you--" She squints at him. "You're not gonna hold this conversation against me, are you? I'm drunk. And it's my birthday."

"I always appreciate honest feedback about my routine."

"I haven't seen your routine."

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "You want to?"

"Not if it's weird or exploitative or--I like you, you're cool, I don't want to--"

"Clarke. I'm offering."

"Then, yeah. I kind of do."

The apartment has three bedrooms, and it's pretty decently sized, because Monroe and Harper share the master bedroom and they split the rent four ways with her and Raven. Clarke's room is smaller, but it's private and the door locks, which is all she really cares about right now. She's getting a _private show_. No one else gets to watch.

He pokes around her room a little, curious, and she's glad it's mostly clean, and that the bra on her desk chair is a cute one, because he definitely notices it.

"So, do you have, like, a soundtrack?" she asks. "Do you need one? I've never actually had a one-on-one stripper experience."

"What kind of stripper experiences have you had?" he asks, leaning over to examine her bookshelf.

"Wells and I went to a strip club when we were nineteen and trying to figure out our sexualities. It was depressing. I just felt dirty and kind of guilty."

"Fair enough. I don't mind it. I work through an agency that's fine, if anyone gets handsy they have my back. I get good tips and I never have to get totally naked. Unless I want to."

"Does that happen a lot?" she asks, and he averts his eyes, neck reddening.

"Uh, not so far. There's no pressure for it or anything."

"Not a career, but a pretty good way to make cash on the side." He nods, mostly to himself, and gestures to the bed. "Okay, have a seat. Music's good. Anything works. Just a beat."

That counts as a challenge, as far as Clarke is concerned, so she gets the My Little Pony theme song up on YouTube, feels her heart flip over when he just laughs and makes an actual attempt to move to it.

"Is this hot for you?" he asks, tugging off his tie. "Because that's the goal, so if this is what you're into--"

"Sorry I don't know any stripper songs."

"Queen," he says. "Don't Stop Me Now."

"See? That wasn't so hard." 

"I figured you might have preferences." He looks oddly embarrassed. "I don't usually do one-on-one either," he admits. "So I might suck at this."

"Are you going to take your clothes off?"

"Definitely."

"Do you want to make out after?"

His smile is sudden and quick, just this brief flicker of joy on his face, like he thought they were locked in her room while he got naked and she _wasn't_ into him. "Yeah, I do."

"Cool, then it's gonna be great."

"I'll do my best."

The song starts kind of slow, and he's not really stripping _to_ it. He's mostly just looking at her, moving a little in time to the music, and once it picks up, he pulls his shirt open and off and crosses the room so he can dance closer to her, not quite touching, but close. She can see how it'd be if he was in a group setting, flitting between girls, flirting a little, singing along, but--it's just the two of them, and he's still weirdly nervous, so Clarke wraps her arms around his neck and just pulls him in for a kiss before he's even gotten his slacks off.

He laughs against her mouth, catching himself before he falls onto the bed, straddling her hips, tangling his hands in her hair. It's a little awkward, lips not quite lined up, Bellamy not quite balanced, but they get it after a second, and then it's good. It's _so fucking good_.

"I thought we were making out after I got my clothes off," he teases.

"Changed my mind."

"You know, my pants tear away." He pushes her onto the bed, kissing her deep and slow. "I can sort of dance. I have this whole routine. I worked really hard on it."

"I'm sure it's great," she says. She slides her hands down his back, grins up at him. He's grinning back, and she hasn't gotten laid yet, but it's already her best birthday ever. "Next time."


End file.
